OH lala! What have we here! I think it's another chapter! (grins and rubs hands together happily). Don't worry, you'll love this one. And for all those worrying that the Trory world is about to crumble, have no fear. There shall be trials and temptations, but..... there's a spectacular reason why this is a Trory. Things might be wildly different than you probably predicted. Except.....Laure, damn, you hit kinda close to the spot! How did you know I was thinking that! Anyway, this chapter is dedicated to Roxy (for that honest review), Queen Anne, Meghan, Tough Fluff, What's in a Name, and last of all InMyEyes (whose website everyone should see, girl, you alright). Also to all those others who reviewed this lame ass piece of ****. Thank you.
yeah yeah. disclaimer; first ch.
Luce
4:00
The five figures in the diner looked at each other silently.
"Maybe it'll let up soon," said Rory hopefully, but in a morbid tone.
"Maybe I'll give up coffee," replied Lorelai morosely.
"Maybe Clinton didn't sleep with Monica Lewinsky," snorted Luke sarcastically and went back to his counter.
"Maybe I'm missing my date with Miss Patty," sighed Tristan dramatically.
They all stared for a second, and then a few grins broke out. The diner was silent except for the usual kitchen noises as everyone tried to think of what to do.
Jess pulled out a stack.
"Cards?" he said, one eyebrow raised.
Everyone gravitated towards him instantly.
6:00
"Oh for Chrissake, Rory, that's the third time you've killed us. Where did you learn to play like this? I never sent you to Camp Chickamauga." pouted Lorelai, slapping her cards down.
"Well, you see, it's really simple logistics and reason and-"
"That's enough. I'm going off to sulk and annoy Luke now." she said, sighing and getting up.
"You have my blessing," chuckled Jess.
Lorelai threw him the evil eye, and then wandered in the back, calling out for Luke in a singsong voice.
The diner was half lighted, the tables cleaned off with the chairs turned on top of them. Safely guessing right, Luke had assumed there would be no more customers, and had closed up the place; the skeletons of the chair legs gleamed in the half light, the storm outside throwing an eerie blackness throughout the room. A few lamps were on, their penetrating beams reaching no further than the circle of their metal shades; in the middle of the floor, leaning against the counter, the three teens sat in a circle, holding the cards.
"Spread," said Tristan carelessly, laying out three cards.
The other two faces were tense for a second, Jess' motionless.
Rory picked up a card. The other two watched her reaction closely. Underneath the beams of light in the semi-darkness, it felt like an interrogation. She shifted nervously and Jess caught it without a trace of acknowledgement.
She was under the impression that she was about to be eaten by two hungry wolves.
Jess laid out his cards smoothly.
"Spread, and a hit on you, son," he said smoothly, flipping down a card on Tristan's row.
A slight twitch of the blond boy's face; a faint outline of a smirk waiting to come out. Rory recognized it in a flash, and brightly looked at her cards. Biting her lip, she considered her choice. She picked up a card. Laughing, she slapped down a row of queens, and threw a card across Jess' row.
"Hit, and tonk out."
"Damn!" hissed Tristan, throwing his cards down good naturedly.
Rory grinned and did a little victory dance with her shoulders, until she saw Jess' face; she instantly knew he had let her win. The expression was too cool, too knowing. Damn. Of course, she should have known. Could anyone beat Jess at anything that involved cards? The boy had played for a living.
Tristan rubbed the back of his head, and smiled at her.
She wanted to gasp. The twinkle in his eye was unmistakable.
"You've been letting me win!" she accused furiously, crossing her arms.
"What! Whatever! Maybe he was!" was the instantaneous wild denial from both of them, followed by laughter.
"That's it, I'm not playing anymore," she sulked. She let herself fall back on the floor, hands under her head, looking at the ceiling in the darkness. Outside, snow smashed and drifted on the windowpanes, encasing them in a white fury that glowed gray in the unnatural dark. She shivered a little.
"Want me to get you a blanket? Or we could go upstairs...." Jess said, his words aimed towards both of them. He looked at Rory.
"I'm not so sure we should just tramp in on Luke's personal space...after all, it's not like that's Buckingham Palace up there. There's not much elbow space." said Rory hesitantly, and Jess shrugged.
"Bathroom?" queried Tristan, and Jess pointed him upstairs. The blond boy tramped up the stairs, leaving the two in the dark.
Over by the window, a cell phone rang. They both jumped slightly, their nerves raw.
"Who's phone is that?" said Rory, her eyes glimmering in the lamplight.
"Want me to go get it?" replied Jess, looking at her form sprawled out on the floor.
"Please," yawned Rory, stretching her arm.
Jess' unmistakably trademark outline slunk to the corner, shaking a coat, and finding the offending object. He picked it up, briefly considered the urge to steal it, smiled to himself, and pressed the button.
"Hello?" he said simply, wondering what to say next.
"Wow, is that you? Doesn't sound like it. But then I've had two martinis already and I'm so damn miserable at this high society fling that I'd do anything to have you come over. Even beg," laughed the stunning voice on the line. Jess took a moment to let the clear tones slide through him, her voice casting it's effect. Slightly confused, he took the careful route. Find out more. His teeth began to clench.
"Huh?" he said, careful not to reveal the sound of his voice too much.
"God, I was just sitting there," the bored, thrilling dulcet tone continued, "when I remembered that time when we were at the Wellington's London house, when our fathers were discussing business and your hands were traveling upwards between my legs under the table while your mother asked you if you were doing well in school......I couldn't sit up for half an hour.....might as well have shot me through the kneecaps....."
Jess stood paralyzed, the phone glued to his ear, the mystery voice sending chills through him. He couldn't deny that her voice did strange things to him, while her words sent flames of fire licking under his veins and made his mouth dry.
Maybe it's a wrong number, was his last insane thought. He didn't hang up. How could he?
Silence on the line. Then the voice, this time girlish and impatient, pouting, naughty.
"Tristan! Cmon! it's Mags, say something. I love the effect that memory has on you......." she giggled and Jess froze.
Anger rushed through him, swift and fierce; his hands burned on the phone, and he felt nauseated. The little fuck....Tristan....Mags?Who the hell was Mags? Rory!!!!!
Calmly, he hung up, put the phone back in the coat pocket, and walked back to Rory. His eyes gleamed fiercely in the shadows; he was still, his mouth hard and thin.
"Who was it?" was her lazy reply from the floor.
"Wrong number," he said quietly, suppressing the sheer rage in his voice.
"My phone?" came the innocently wondering voice from the stairway.
Tristan.
Rory suddenly felt a cold chill, a strange sensation. She stood up. Tristan neared. Closer to them. His mouth smiled, at her, at Jess.......... he was right by them.
Her heart stopped still.
In a flash, in a muted half second Jess' fist shot out, the crack echoing through the silence; dazed, she watched the blond boy's head violently snap to the side, as his body reeled back.
"What the fu-" the mug on the counter shattered as the heavy impact of Jess' body hit it. Another hit. Blood.
A scream escaped her throat before she even realized it was gone.
On the floor, yelling, cursing, fist hitting tables, chairs skittering around the room like four legged spiders, STOP! another hit, lamp swinging, JESS! NO!!!!!!
Dashing towards them madly, tears streaming down her face, Rory beat their backs with her small fists, effort useless; YOU BASTARD!, another hit, the raw sound of knuckle, another scream from Rory.
"What in the-" Luke's voice suddenly roared among the chaos, as the tall body of the heavily muscled man ran towards them, grabbing Jess, forcibly wrestling with him, when one fist shot back, slamming into Luke's chest. The man reeled back.
A stinging slap; YOU JACKASS! a heavy shove, a missed punch, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!! the storm screamed and screamed outside, Rory's yells and sobs lost inside it; it whirled around them, the two lithe, muscled bodies violently colliding in the small space, deserted pieces of furniture scattered like animal bones over the desolate floor.
Lorelai and Rory quickly dashed to a booth, the woman holding her daughter as she watched Luke dive in between them again, pinning Jess to the counter with his arm and leg, and holding one arm out.
Screams. Thuds. Yells. Obscenities, blood.
Struggling against Luke, Jess's body trashed violently.
"What the fuck are you doing, you motherfucking asshole!" spat Tristan, blood spraying on the white tile, guilty and dark, shimmering.
"Hey, that's what I wanna know! I'm not gonna let you screw her over! How the fuck could you do this!!!!" raged Jess, his features contorted in hate.
"Do what, you bitch! I've done nothing to her!!!" Tristan yelled, rushing at him again. Luke's heavy hand sent him flying backwards against a table.
"Who the fuck is Mags, huh, you prick!?? Care to explain who you're feeling under the table while Rory's not there!! Did you think you were gonna get away with this??!!!"
The only sound was Rory's quiet sobbing as she wriggled from the booth and dashed forward, imploring, pleading, her tearstained eyes and hands accusing both of them. She drew desperate pictures in the air, gasping to catch her breath; her voice broke and failed her.
"Jess, it's alright, you don't know the story!" she screamed, and the boy turned his head as though he'd been slapped.
"Tristan....I......" she whispered wordlessly, her eyes wide, blue and electric. They glimmered and burned, frostbit.
"It's my fault," he spat, a trickle of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. She held back the urge to pass out. "I should have turned my phone off, found some way to block her. I'm sorry." he whispered to her, his eyes turning liquid but his features holding hard.
Rory looked at the mess in the diner for a second and sank to the floor weakly.
"Oh," was all she said, in a tone so lost and full of pain that Luke's heart stung with it; he looked venomously at both boys. Grabbing both of them by the collar, he held them separated.
"Both of you bitches need to be taught a lesson; it's a shame I'm not your legal guardian or I would beat you so hard you'd be wishing you were six feet under instead. So I'm gonna sit you both here, ten feet away. I'd better still find you like that when I get back, or lawsuit or no lawsuit, someone's getting trashed. Understand?" he roared viciously.
The two didn't reply, their features hardened and sullen, as he threw them down on the ground. His intimidating frame towered over them. Luke was not a man that you would question.
"Lorelai," he called, but she was already there, picking up Rory.
"Take her upstairs. I'm gonna make her a hot cup of coffee in the coffee maker upstairs, I shut down the one down here. Don't let her go back down here for another half hour. Little bad ass wannabees," he spat at the figures on the floor. Their eyes glared gleaming at him in the shadows.
They were left alone.
In the darkness, the two breathed heavily. The stared straight ahead, knowing that looking at each other would most definitely start things up again.
The two lamp bulbs were broken, leaving them in the dark; fluorescent blue lights from the cooler dimly glowed in the darkness, turning in from black into a chilly, navy blue shadowed ice. The snow outside on the windows gleamed with it.
Tristan wiped at his lip, which had stopped bleeding in the corner. Running a hand through his hair, he sighed a tired sigh that rattled all his bones and made them ache. Jess had made use of the short time they'd had. He winced as he tested his arm, then his side. Biting his tongue in pain, his fingers traveled over his ribs.
Jess had suffered the brunt of the same fists that had brutally protected Rory that night in New Orleans so long ago. Tristan's private gym had not gone unused. But like a true Brooklynite, he refused to show it, suffering in stoic silence and hoping he was still all intact.
But through Jess' mind, the only thing running were those words, those low, playful, sultry, heavy innuendo laced words, the husky, sweet contralto that made each syllable so memorable; the British accent that slipped off her tongue lightly was so seductive, so thrilling.......Jesus!
He had to know.
"Don't lie to me or you will get your face smashed in; have you fucked around with the Mags girl anytime since you met Rory at the begging of junior year?" said Jess dangerously. His tone was even and full of an unmade threat.
Tristan paused for a second to give his words momentum.
"No." he said. "I haven't. And I never will again." he said just as clearly, letting the words fall heavy and precise. Honest.
The two still stared straight ahead, silent. Jess considered Tristan's words. With a nod of his head, he acknowledged them.
"I want you to know, that I'm like her brother. I'll do anything to make sure nothing happens to her. And if you turn out to be something she'll have to also get over, I will find you, and make sure you never mess around with another girl as long as you live. Do you understand?" he said, pronouncing each word clearly, sharply, and calmly.
"I'll never stop loving her," Tristan replied quietly, stunning the other boy.
Jess' thoughts stopped for a second. The tone in the other boy's voice had shot them dead. Careful and amazed, he listened to it.
It was full of pain, full of things that Jess had known once himself; full of self loathing and anger and disgust. Full of shame. And full of longing.
Jess had been born studying people. He knew how to make his face so indifferent and completely expressionless that no one would ever be able to read it; he knew how to discern situations before they even began. He tasted tensions, his eyes eagle-quick pinpointed trouble. He had to learn this, to survive in a place like New York. You didn't get second chances.
Studying the boy next to him, his muscles suddenly relaxed. He felt an odd kinship.
Tristan suddenly understood Jess; the boy was just another version of himself.
And Rory was a staple of their existence. They lived in a large part for her, always knowing that they'd never meet another girl like that, always knowing that it paid to stay by her side. Whether in love or friendship, the two had the same link; one shy brown haired girl with huge blue eyes and an teasing smile.
They sat side by side, separated, slouching against the counter, feeling the pain of the hits taken, and thinking the same thoughts.
A pact had been made.
"Cigarette?" offered Jess, his face still an expressionless mask.
Tristan's lips curled into a grin.
"God yes!" he chuckled. Jess handed him the long, thin object, and Tristan slowly placed it between his lips. He caught the lighter the other boy had tossed him.
"Thanks," he mumbled, tasting it through the paper, hungrily lighting it.
Two sighs and two clouds of smoke were released into the air, the hardened expression on the two handsome, abused faces softening just a little bit. They stretched the lean, muscled lengths of their bodies, searching for bruises, propping their hands up on their knees as they inhaled the blue smoke that drifted like dead ghosts in the dark. Wincing, Tristan pulled off his sweater and examining the hardened expanse of body covered by the thin undershirt.
"Jesus," swore the blond , studying an interestingly darkened bruise. "You pack a hell of a punch."
Jess grinned, and instantly stopped, the act hurting his jaw.
"If I have to get my jaw rewired, asshole, you're paying for it," softly cursed the darker boy, his fingertips gingerly traveling over his angular, chiseled cheekbones.
The two smoked in silence for another second.
"What's with the Mags bitch," asked Jess, his tone betraying more than he realized.
Tristan chuckled.
"You only heard her and you want a piece of her ass," grinned Tristan. Jess shrugged, a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, she might be a bitch, but she's unstoppable. You don't say no to her, you know what I mean? Damn......she's....."
"A gladiator? How soon could she walk after?" smirked Jess.
"Not for a day," laughed Tristan. "That girl takes you out. Repeatedly. Fuckin' energizer bunny."
Jess nodded lazily, his lips stretched in a smile over his cigarette.
"It was a long time ago, though. Summer before junior year, when we went to London. God, I she laid me down flat. I couldn't handle it. She fucked me up, bad."
Jess nodded.
"Came across a girl like that once," he said thoughtfully.
They watched the blue smoke ringwraiths circle around their mouths, disappearing in the dim shadows.
"She's back," sighed Tristan, a tired quality to his voice. " I don't know what the hell to do. I already resisted once, but I'm afraid, you know? Afraid she'll still win."
Jess' eyes narrowed, then relaxed again. He took a long drag. It burned his lips.
"Rory's....you know....different. She doesn't think she's anything, but the person that gets a hold of her will probably be the luckiest person on earth. I had a thing for her for a while, but, not now." he said.
Tristan nodded.
"I'm not afraid of messing up. I'm just .....hoping....she'll take me anyway, you know?" Tristan whispered, laying all fears to rest in the other boy's mind.
The two looked at each other, their tired faces masked in silence.
Jess took out another cigarette.
He raised an eyebrow towards Tristan. The blond held out his hand. The lighter and another smoke were placed in it. He lighted up, and they leaned their heads back against the counter wall.
"Now, unless you've settled this by now, you brats are about to-" boomed the voice that stomped down the stairs, stopping short when he saw the two figures.
Puzzlement ran through his features, then disgust, then anger, and then defeat.
"I....uh...." said Luke confusedly. They looked up at him. Jess took his cigarette between his fingers and smiled at Luke, an easy smile that made the man's eyes narrow.
Angry, the man stomped off. They listened to his heavy footsteps up the stairs. Tristan let out a light chuckle.
" I could see his brain frying. Smoke? Risk a fight? Smoke?"
Jess grinned.
He blew smoke rings into the blue silence.
Upstairs, in the small but warmly lighted room, Rory lay quiet, staring at the ceiling on Jess' bed. Her mind played flashback sequences, snaps of pictures; her mouth trembled, her eyes brimming. She said nothing, just thought.
Lorelai's hand stroked her hair.
"Rory, what more could you want? Sometimes trust comes up. And this is one of those times, love. He confessed things he didn't have to. There has to be some credit for that."
"I know," said Rory quietly, her words lost and sad. "That's the problem. I don't know if I can....."
"Deal with imagining it?" finished Lorelai, sighing. "Hey, when Max told me he'd been doing the down and dirty dating right before he asked me to marry him, I still said yes."
"Good example," said Rory sarcastically.
"Uh, yeah..." replied Lorelai in a defeated tone. "Sorry."
"It's just that..." whispered Rory, "what could I be to him after that girl? She's like, a goddess or something. I'm not the prettiest person. I mean, I'm ugly. Forget it."
"Oh for God's sakes Rory. I won't even argue. You know that's not true," said Lorelai crossly.
"Ok, alrigh," sighed Rory, rolling her eyes. "But she seduced him. I'm not a seducer. I read books."
"Maybe you could read books about seducing."
"Mom!"
"Ok, another not so smart comment. Two in a row. Not a good night." muttered Lorelai. "Rory, I think you know how Tristan feels about you. Don't underestimate yourself. You can get that boy worked up just by looking at him a certain way; I've seen it happen. But that's not important! What's important is love, and that's what's gonna keep you." insisted Lorelai earnestly.
"Oh wow, if that wasn't a 7th Heaven moment I don't know what was," said Rory wryly.
"That's it. My parenting shift is over in 3...2..1. minutes. Bye. Raise yourself." said Lorelai morosely.
"Mom, come back," whined Rory. "I need a hug."
Rory cuddled in her mom's safe, warm embrace, sighing deeply.
"I'm all sad and confused," she said, her voice muffled.
Lorelai rocked her silently for a moment.
"We all are," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "We all are."
Rory softly descended down the steps, her touch feather light. Her nose wrinkling in disgust, she stepped down into the slightly smoky diner.
"Put that out," she commanded. Two sets of eyes instantly swung towards her; two cigarettes instantly got ground into the tile floor.
She studied the two, realizing what must have taken place. Gently, she approached them both, waving clouds of smoke away from her. With a shaky, tentative smile she cracked her knuckles, then crossed her arms across her stomach, and bit her lip.
They both heavily stood up, their bodies unfolding in front of her, and she studied both frames for a tense second. Her eyes straying to the thin undershirt Tristan was wearing, a tiny tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks as she saw Jess' smirk. He hadn't failed to notice the quick glance.
"We're going to pretend this never happened," she said calmly. "And I'm going to take both of you dumbasses upstairs and clean you up and then we'll all go to sleep. I've had enough for tonight."
The two nodded mutely, acknowledging her words; her figure glimmered and wavered blue, reflected in two sets of eyes, one sapphire and one dark chocolate.
The followed her up the stairs obediently, with a penitent air, both cursing themselves for doing what they'd done in front of her. Jess swore silently. Should've put it on hold until she wasn't there, he thought bitterly to himself.
Upstairs, she sat them both down on the edge of the couch.
"No whining, no crying, no bitching. You deserve this," she said bravely, slapping down the gauze and the sterilizer and the ice. "Something hurt on your torso/upper body? Shirt off. Got a bruise anywhere else, I don't want to see it."
They both smirked at her, infuriating little smiles that made her narrow her eyes and grit her teeth.
"I think you're enjoying this too much," grinned Jess, eyeing Tristan. Tristan shook his head. Not a good time, he communicated silently, and Jess was instantly subdued.
"Yes ma'am," he nodded, groaning as the shirt slipped off. Lorelai joined in the inspection. Luke watched from a corner sullenly, his expression mad and sulky.
"I'll take care of that cut on his back Jess got when the little blond angel next to him slammed him down on that coffee mug; and Rory, you start in on a bruise check and that cut on Tristan's lip." ordered Lorelai, grabbing some Neosporin.
"Holy Mother of Christ," hissed Tristan as Rory's fingertips accidentally brushed his side. "I think I cracked a rib."
" Let's hope," countered Jess.
"Bite me, Grease." spat Tristan
"Gladly, Abercrombie."
"Hey!" interrupted Lorelai, noticing Luke's fists tensing.
"Sorry," they apologized, grabbing some ice packs.
"You, in that corner. You, in the other one. See those sleeping bags? All yours. You're both in timeout. Just be glad I'm not making you face the wall." snapped Lorelai, throwing a blanket at each of them.
Luke headed for the couch as Rory and Lorelai jumped onto the bed. After the lights were turned off, they lay quietly, listening to the storm, noticing with a shock, that it had stopped. The world outside was still and quiet.
3:45 a.m.
She couldn't sleep.
Her mind dreamed reckless, heartbreaking dreams, sequences interrupted and flashes of memories; she cried out silently, waking up in a cold sweat. He was slipping. Buried in a hard shell of strange suffering, she curled up within herself and tried desperately not to cry. She stood up; she felt as though he had been crouching inside her, and had fallen off when her body unfolded. Tilting her head up, she carefully tiptoed down to the diner.
All she wanted was a glass of water. Dry thoughts of him filled her mouth.
Her body stopped short at the foot of the stairs, her mind halting, numb; trembling, trying to breathe quietly, she studied his figure. He was looking out the window, back turned to her. She wanted to run. Her feet were frozen and heavy.
This is why it hurts, this is why you should've known better, her mind cried out. Did you think it would be so easy, to just distance yourself when you want him? Did you think you could hold back? Did you think you could handle it?
She studied the easy curves of his slouch, the angles of his frame reflected in the dim light. She traveled the lithe, powerful outlines of his figure, slim yet flowing with the strength she knew lay in the knotted sinew that rippled easily under the skin like a panther's. Her eyes caressed the curve of his neck, the sculpted outline of his jaw, just a black shadow in the blue darkness. She traced the curve of his spine, the swell and rise of his ass and legs. Her eyes glimmered electric in the cool shadows.
Carefully, she turned to go.
"Mary."
The whisper pierced her in it's quiet intensity; she turned towards him. His back was still turned. He hadn't seen her. He'd sensed her. The name stopped her still in her steps, glued her to the spot. An avalanche of chills washed over her, leaving her weak and powerless, buried in her own emotions. Her body moved towards his without her consent.
"What are you doing down here?" she said nervously, keeping a safe distance as she joined him by the window.
He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," was the soft reply she had to strain to catch. His voice dared her. Come a little bit closer. Come. She shivered.
"Cold?" was the gentle reply, and the tone in his voice startled her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his and a jolt of electricity sparkled from blue to blue in the dark.
"Come here," his voice softly teased, urged, laced with tiny unsaid things, freezing the blood in her veins and sending dry flames through her body. " Either my senses deceive me or you're scared....."
She shook her head obstinately and crossed her hands over her stomach, tucking them in at the waist.
"Mary," said the fragile whisper, fiercely snatched from between his lips.
In one swift movement his mouth fiercely took hers; his body crushing her, desperately seeking warmth, desperately seeking her. Her mind swam in a pool of confusion. His arms lifted her, her back pressed against the windowpanes as she gasped, and her legs slowly wrapped around his waist by instinct. A struggle to breathe, burning, dying, the cold window against the back of her neck, the hot mouth on the nape of it, ferociously tasting, taunting; she was knotted up and tightened, legs limp, hands desperately wanting to know the contours of his body. Kisses flamed like a wildfire over her mouth as he broke her against the windowpanes harshly, and she melted inside him, the flames consuming her like delicate rice paper, folding, curling, crumbling. A moan welled up in her mouth, escaped between their lips that made him tremble; his hands traced her face, her collarbones.
"Stop!" she managed to gasp between kisses, slipping to the ground. He stepped back with great difficulty as she placed one hand upon his chest, her fingertips burning at the contact with the warm steel; she slowly backed away, fear in her half glazed eyes. His breathing was ragged.
Without another word she fled, lightly floating up the stairs, quickly disappearing.
He struggled to regain control for a while; with a sudden groan, he crashed his fist into a table, wincing at the pain. He barely realized his mouth was bleeding again.
8:00 a.m.
Breakfast was silent. Bruises from the night before were felt ten times worse in the morning, headaches pounded and raged and there was nothing to discuss, even for Lorelai. The snow plows cleared the street, and the trio headed towards the house.
They entered the house and tiredly dropped their things.
The phone rang.
"Yes? Yes. Oh God. Alright. He'll be home. No problem, I'll explain later." said Lorelai into the receiver, rubbing her head.
Turning to Tristan, she sighed deeply.
"You, my friend, and in seriously deep shit. Your parents are about to kill you, I don't know how they found out you're here but for once in their life they care. They've sent someone after you to bring you back to the house. In case you noticed, your car's completely snowed in and .....wow, you have a flat tire! Did you have that before you left."
Tristan's eyes widened. Suddenly, a cold premonition ached in all his bones; he knew. He felt that presence. There was only one thing....no, that would be crazy. The tire could have been...an accident. But he felt it. Electricity froze him.
The doorbell rang.
Rory opened the door; her eyes froze on the strange figure outside. Somehow instinctively she knew; maybe it was by the way the stranger's eyes washed over her, and then ended in a relaxed smirk. Her green eyes lightly danced in the cool winter light.
"I'm here for Tristan," said the immortal, beautiful, heart-breaking voice.
God! I'm horrible!!!!! Maggie's baaaaack, and no less subtle or subdued. Can anyone survive? Hmm..we'll see. I sense some serious trouble for Tristan, what? A catfight? Whoooooo! Jess works some magic....but on who? Or is that too dirty to post...hah, I don't think so. :-) till next time.... keep reading.
ps. this is the part where I whore a little for feedback....pwease? only if u have the time.